


The Light At the End of the Tunnel

by JacenKorr



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Flashbacks, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-08-24
Packaged: 2020-09-25 20:44:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20377834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JacenKorr/pseuds/JacenKorr
Summary: The war is over. And yet, battles leave scars, some one can't see...She gave up her own life, saving in the process half of the universe and giving the Avengers a decisive edge in their last desperate stand against Thanos. A beautiful, selfless and tragic gesture.Some people may forget her, but not them... Never.





	The Light At the End of the Tunnel

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone ! Avengers Endgame brought a conlusion to the third Phase of the MCU and the entire Infinity Saga in a quite fantastic way. The movie kept enriching the stories of all these characters we grew to love, bringing some of their arcs to their terms. 
> 
> As much as I enjoyed it, some of the decisions taken by the writers didn't satistfy me entirely... 
> 
> The following work pays a tribute to the character of Natasha Romanoff, exploring her relationship with Steve Rogers (at least my interpretation of it). This is the ending I wish the movie gave us...
> 
> Comments and reviews are very much appreciated since it is the first work of fanfiction I publish ! Enjoy !
> 
> Edit : This was originally thought as the first chapter of a much larger story. I haven't decided yet whether or not I would publish the entire story.
> 
> Disclaimer : I do not own any of the characters. They are the property of Marvel Studios.

« Ready ? »

Such a simple question… The answer should have been as simple : his suit was fully operational as confirmed by Hank Pym's thorough inspection, his stock of Pym particles refilled. Besides, he had been given enough time to recuperate for the serum flowing in his veins to heal most of the various and sundry wounds that had littered his body ever since his showdown with the Mad Titan. And yet…battles leave scars, some one can't see.

Why hesitate ? Perhaps he still refused to accept that Tony Stark, "playboy, genius, billionaire, philanthropist" as he used to introduce himself, was dead. Tony had been many things : a brilliant scientist, a rival, a friend and most importantly a hero. No matter how much his hubris may have pit them against the other in the past, he truly wished everyone would have remembered him as Iron Man, the man who sacrificed himself for the greater good, choosing to lay down his life so that million can live.

The unleashed power of the Six Infinity Stones combined, impossible for a mere mortal to contain, turned Thanos and his horde of minions into dust with somewhat of a delicious irony. Yet, such a bittersweet victory came with a heavy price, too heavy for his liking. The world, their world was left orphan…

Perhaps he was still desperately clinging to the foolish belief Natasha wasn't truly gone… Broken though Clint may have seemed upon returning from Vormir, the horror of their friend's gruesome death etched deep on his face, he refused to let that small glimmer of hope fade into a darkness he had grown much too familiar with over the past five years.

They battled aliens, a psychotic robot wanting to annihilate mankind and even went back in time, leading him to fight his former self… Such things were well beyond his understanding, rather sparkling in him the naive thought everything could become possible at some point than leaving him puzzled in search for an explanation, something he was used to leaving to the scientific minds of the team.

Then why her ? Why couldn't Banner or Pym come up with some line of action to bring her back ? It was… unfair. And cruel. She had always been the true heart and cement of this team, constantly struggling to keep them working together. Should she have not been here, finding the right words to soothe his overwhelming pain despite her own, obvious, torment, he may have collapsed into complete despair.

Seeing Bucky or Sam being erased from existence under his very eyes shook him to the core, much more than he was willing to admit. Funny thing how much time he spent trying to talk people into moving on with their lives while the memories of that fateful day kept haunting his nightmares. Natasha had been here when he needed her the most...

The Avengers had failed her. They had been her only family, a family she trusted enough to give up her life for. Yet, her death wasn't mourned properly as she didn't receive neither a true farewell nor funerals living up to the tragic beauty and selflessness of her gesture.

Some people may forget her… but not him. Never. His hand clutched the suitcase enclosing the stones he was set to return in their respective eras a little harder. Suffice it to say such a thought made him feel queasy.

Bringing back the stones would mean bringing definitive closure on this chapter of their lives, quelling all other possible timelines that may have sprouted from them meddling with reality. Tony and Natasha would thus be truly gone, leaving him alone to face a grief he wasn't sure he could contain… Refusing to cope with that kind of truth seemed much easier…

His feet carried him onto the platform while Banner was starting the quantum machine. He still had a mission to carry out. Whatever it takes. He inhaled slowly. Well, time to go…

******************************************************

Vormir. A place out of time.

Cold. He felt it akin to a swarm of angry needles piercing his skin, carving its path to his very bones… He felt its shroud enclosing him, trapping him with his grief as crystal white snowflakes danced in the air merrily, mocking the burden he had chosen to carry.

Loss. A threatening shadow looming over him. Darkness surrounded him, spreading its greedy tentacles and blending with the white falling snow, enveloping tightly the planet’s surface in a thick velvety cocoon.

Death. Its intoxicating rotten smell rising from the ground, filling his lungs, suffocating him. A reminder of his losses, shoved brutally in his face, denying him any possibility to evade the unrelenting grasp of his pain he had been seeking so desperately to avoid.

He let his eyes wander over the remote profiles of the two giant pillars, marking the location of the Soul Stone’s altar… Two icy behemoths reaching for the dead skies, obstructing the horizon…_ This is where she died_… His chest constricted as overwhelming waves of guilt and remorse came crashing upon him.

Sam. Bucky. Natasha. They chose to follow his lead, leaving everything behind, when he refused to abide by a law he regarded as unfair. They looked up at him, seeing in him a source of inspiration. He remembered all these men and women gathering forces, joining him in his last desperate stand against Thanos, uniting behind the man who wielded Mjölnir. The mighty hammer was here, clasped in his right hand... It had found him worthy...

Yet, he had failed as a leader. Utterly. Failed to prevent Tony and Natasha’s deaths. _It should have been him. _

He felt wounds he tried to turn a blind eye to reopening. Better still to keep ignoring them : the Soul Stone had to be returned. Mission comes first. He thus buried his pain, hiding it in the depths of his scarred soul. The past five years gave him a lot of practice on the matter. With a last look to the twin mountains he started walking.

******************************************************

_Steven Grant Rogers, son of Sarah. _

The deep, eerie voice tore him away from the dark web of his chaotic thoughts. Clint warned him about the Stone’s guardian, a “great floating guy” quoting his exact words. He was indeed hovering a few inches in the air while closing the distance between them, clad in a dark cloak, nearly brushing the ground. As he came closer, Steve eventually got a clear view of the face hidden under the hood.

What he saw left him frozen in complete and utter shock, unwilling to trust his eyes. A face that would never leave his darkest memories… Johann Schmidt. The Red Skull. The man who stole his future, trapping him in an ice casket for seventy years.

So much havoc wrought because of his madness… Families and countries shattered, souls twisted, perverted…Bucky. Turned into a mindless killing machine by Hydra, the very organization born from Schmidt’s greedy and disruptive dreams of grandeur. He truly took everything from him.

“Schmidt” he growled.

This long bottled anger, frustrated by the impossibility to lash out at someone long dead, was now boiling. His fists clenched over his shield’s straps as his knuckles went white, his grip on Mjölnir hardening. The crimson, hideously distorted face remained unflinching, emotionless.

“_Captain Rogers. It has been a long time indeed_.” he simply acknowledged. A ghost, a memory came back to taunt him.

He wished he could silence that voice, giving into the cold wrath pulsing, coursing through his veins like venom. It was easier. Easier to forget the pain and the grief, focusing solely on the muscles, directing their strength and momentum to hurt, maim, sever. Easier than coming to terms with the turmoil raging in his tormented mind.

But to what end ? Hydra had fallen. So had Thanos. It was over. Taking down the Red Skull would only demonstrate his own weakness… This path was not one for him to walk. Not today.

He forced himself to regain a semblance of composure before he began :

“You are the keeper of the Soul Stone now.”

It was a mere statement: an assertion that required no answer. Yet, one came:

“_This is my punishment, Captain Rogers. I have been foolish enough to believe that a simple mortal could subjugate an Infinity Stone to his will. I am now bound to this place where I shall serve forever as guardian of the Stone, ensuring that anyone willing to use its power pays the required price._”

He noticed a hint of restrained loathing in these words, a resurgence of the resentment his old nemesis had nourished for years. It did not much to unduly worry him though...

He slowly secured his shield on his back, leaving his left hand free to open the briefcase containing the stones, reaching for the Soul Stone. His fingers wrapped around the softly glowing artifact, allowing him to bask briefly in its warm energy. He could feel Schmidt (or whatever he was now) staring at him, probably puzzled by his little game. The irony of the whole situation wasn't lost to him...

“_Your quest is pointless, Captain. The Soul Stone has already been retrieved_” the specter finally said.

“I didn’t come here to obtain the stone” he simply answered.

Reluctantly opening his fingers, he presented his palm upwards revealing the Soul Gem resting on it:

“I am here to return it.”

For the first time, the Red Skull seemed to be caught off guard. A whirlwind of conflicted emotions tore for a split second the impassive mask that had been his for the past minutes or so, his collected demeanor slightly waning.

“_The Stone had never been returned after being taken_”.

“I guess there is a first time for everything” he replied.

Schmidt remained at loss of words, which amused him enough to almost get a smile out of him. Almost.

“_Why ? Why would you relinquish the Stone’s might ?"_

“It’s … complicated” he shrugged, clearly having no intention to comment further on the matter.

“_Very well, Captain Rogers_.”

“_You shall therefore let the Stone return to its eternal sanctuary_.” the Skull retorted coolly. The mask was back…

He took a few hesitant steps in the direction of the altar under Schmidt’s cold stare. He remained uncomfortable at the idea of turning his back on perhaps his most tenacious foe... _This was not about him. He had to do this._..

He eventually reached the cliff’s edge. The Stone was still there, a small heart beating his own rhythm. A Soul of its own. A soul that cost him one he cherished...

He dropped to his knees, feeling the weight of the grief ready to crush him once more. Schmidt will surely be pleased to see me like that, the bitter thought crossed his mind. Not that he cared much now.

“Natasha” he whispered.

“I... I miss you.”

“You… You have always been here… As far as I could recall, you were at my side, offering me your company and unwavering support. Now, you are…gone” he choked, as he felt an iron grip tearing his insides, ripping his heart out. It was more than he could possibly handle.

“It feels wrong. Wrong for you to be the first gone. Wrong for you to go like this.”

He took a sharp breath:

“You saved us all, Nat. You saved me. The truth is…. I lost everything that day. Thanos shattered my soul in a million shards, snuffing out every spark of hope I ever had. The past five years have been a dark and lonely path I forced myself onto...”

“You helped me through it. Through thick and thin… And now all I am left with is a yawning gap in my heart, one that refuses to be filled.” he added as tears burned his eyes.

“You taught me something today, Nat. The hard way. You taught me to let go… I am not getting you back, am I ? Neither you nor Tony. I…it will take time. A lot of it. At least I may be seeing the light at the end of the tunnel after all these years wasted wandering in the dark…"

He paused for a moment, lost in a whirling spiral of shared memories. _She deserves it. He had to go on. To tell her._

He began again, attempting to grin weakly despite the tears blurring his vision: “You told me that you were no hero, that you had no place in this world…Look at what you did… You gave up your own life to save half of the universe. That sounds as something a hero would do, doesn’t it ?”

She was always the one to deliver the snarky comments. He simply hoped that wherever she was now she was laughing at his poor attempt at humor. It really was nowhere near convincing…

“You turned out to be much more of a hero than I ever was, Nat. I want you to know that we have won. Thanks to you. See you in a minute.” he whispered.

He remained kneeling as he finally allowed the tears to fall free. They streamed down his cheeks, aggregating slowly on the curve of his jaw, small droplets of water that came splashing on the white snow. _Let go_. He released his grip on the Soul Stone, allowing it to slide gently down his fingers and watching it fall slowly, snapped up by the chasm below the cliff, a steady red glow amidst blowing snow.

He truly couldn’t tell what may occur when the Stone would return to its sanctuary. Different scenarios had played in his head : dark clouds unleashing their fury, dazzling light exploding from the ground, the earth quaking uncontrollably. Yet, none of this happened. The skies’ thunder only seemed to recede slightly, the howling of the wind dimming in the distance… Nothing more. A deafening silence. Perhaps Vormir itself was honoring the passing of the woman whose life and death have been as quiet as this moment was… He would like to believe that.

He finally raised himself from the ground, his shield on his back, Thor’s hammer in his right hand, the Stones’ briefcase in his left.

Schmidt was still here, a few steps behind, watching him intently. Straightening, he started walking to stop only as he came over where the Red Skull was standing. Their gazes locked without much hatred or animosity, surprisingly so.

Looking into the yellowish, lifeless orbs of his archenemy, he really caught a glimpse of the toll the Soul Gem took on Schmidt, reduced to a shallow specter bound to this place of doom. A shell of what he once was.

“I am sorry. For everything you have endured here.” Steve simply told him.

“_I do not need your pity, Captain Rogers_.”

"I know.”

“Farewell, Schmidt.” he replied before walking away.

Five stones still awaited to be returned, five timelines still expected his visit. There was the hammer too…

And after that ? _The war is over, Steve_. Indeed. Time to go home. His home.


End file.
